


Climate Change

by inksheddings



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-07
Updated: 2008-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inksheddings/pseuds/inksheddings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hisoka's getting used to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Climate Change

  
Hisoka used to wake up from his nightmares sweating and shivering and grinding his teeth; his curse marks tingling and itching like they wanted to _move_ and take him to a place – and a person – he never wanted to be near again.

He'd gotten used to it.

But then...something new. Still the same sweat, the same shivers, the same ache in his jaw. But the hardness between his legs? The urge to touch and scratch that particular itch? Quite new.

At first Hisoka would curl up in a ball and just ignore it, because how the hell could he ever justify to himself that he was getting hard over _Muraki_? At thirteen, Hisoka had barely known what sex was all about; only that it had produced him, which hadn't turned out so well for anyone.

Except, perhaps, for Muraki.

Thank God it had never happened during an assignment, when he and Tsuzuki shared cheap hotel rooms, and sometimes even cheaper beds (Tatsumi had to be doing that on purpose, he simply _had_ to).

When Muraki had taken Tsuzuki, Hisoka and his partner began sharing a demon. And while it had certainly brought them closer, this wasn't the sort of thing he'd felt comfortable trying to explain, especially when it concerned Muraki. Especially when he didn't really understand it himself.

But then he'd gotten used to it.

Hisoka lightly drags his fingers up and down his cock, over his pajama bottoms. It twitches, and he can feel the wetness begin to gather at the tip. He's started wondering if it has as much to do with Muraki anymore. Or if it ever did. Or if it even matters.

He's sixteen. Will always be sixteen, and aren't sixteen-year-olds _supposed_ to get hard over pretty much nothing? Anything?

He slips a finger under the waistband and gently rubs the precome over the head of his cock, and yeah, it feels good. He's pretty sure it _could_ feel even better, but besides his own personal reticence to go any farther, there's the matter of Tsuzuki sleeping on the couch in the living room.

He'd passed out somewhere between his first drink and last bad joke and Hisoka hadn't had the heart to kick him awake. But he'd stopped short at giving him a pillow and a blanket.

Hisoka has two pillows, and his blanket is warm. His hand feels pretty warm too, as it grips his cock a bit more firmly than he's tried before, though he resists the urge to thrust into it.

Not yet.

Because his curse marks still tingle, even if the desire to crawl out of his own skin has abated. Hisoka can admit he's a little afraid of how it would feel to take this too far, to stroke fast and hard and let himself fall over that edge, with no one to catch him if the face he sees in his head at that moment isn't a friendly one.

And Tsuzuki's sleeping in the other room.

Hisoka takes his hand out of his pants and rolls over onto his stomach. He presses his hips hard into the mattress, and the pressure is enough to more than just hint at the possibility of pleasure. He wonders if someone else's hand stroking him would feel better than his own or simply take him back to that terrible night.

But maybe someone gentle; someone whose emotions are familiar enough to Hisoka that he could effectively block out what was too much to bear?

Not yet.

Because as much as he wants to block any and all traces Muraki left behind, Hisoka doesn't want to do that to the man sleeping in the next room. But sometimes he still _has_ to, which means....

Hisoka doesn't have an extra blanket, but he takes one of his pillows, stumbles out to the living room, and carefully places it under Tsuzuki's head. The man burrows into it and smiles in his sleep. It's enough that Hisoka almost – _almost_ – feels guilty about the blanket, so he drapes Tsuzuki's own long coat over his body.

By the time he climbs into bed again his erection is gone. He should be relieved. He can stop thinking about what it all _means_ and just go back to sleep.

But Hisoka is not relieved, not entirely, because there's a man sleeping on the couch who is going to drag him out to breakfast in the morning. Hisoka doesn't even mind anymore; he's gotten used to it, and if he can get used to Tsuzuki making a fool out of the both of them in any number of restaurants, then he figures he can get used to pretty much anything.

Including thinking about – and possibly even _enjoying_ – what it all means.

**END**


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